My friend Piano Man, an older gent, chased after a wacky young thing last month, and she clearly enjoyed being landed by a man who both owns a tux and looks good in it. He was expounding one night. “This is just one of those crazy times,” he said. “It’s everywhere. It’s not going to last, but people are just crazy right now. So we might as well enjoy it.”
Judging from a spate of hard landings recently, the June of Love has tractored into the July of Dubious Enchantment.
A blogger whose blog has been All About the Boy, broke up with the boy. A friend whose ex has been a plague is being plagued, again, by the ex. A spectacular friend just got a pink slip from her boyfriend who never half deserved her in the first place. Half? Don’t get me started. My Smitten did not read me the Riot Act, but she did leave the book on the table with a bookmark to the Riot Act, so I can go read it for myself any time I get too excited.
Riot act – you can read me the Riot Act
You can make me a matter of fact
Or a villain in a million
A slip of the tongue is gonna keep me civilian
No one writes walking papers like Elvis does. No one. And I guess this is the Other Side of Summer, then.
Yep, there’s something in the air, and it’s not just the downfall stench of Karl the Mouth, Dick the Dick, and George the Tool. It’s more personal than that.